ML: I was the innocent victim of a wasp sting.
ML: [indecipherable words strung together with inappropriate pauses]
Bryan: Hey, you—
ML: mrph [unimaginable babbling]
B: So, basically, you sound just like Person X when he has neurological reactions to migraines.
ML: How do you feel?
“Unnamed Person”: Much better. I was a human geyser. But I’m looking damn good today in my skinny jeans and white belt.
ML: Is it called a human flute? Flue? A slat? [the word ML was looking for was “funnel”]
B: [indecipherable response as ML tries to think clearly]
B: Girl?
B: Call me if you need an am-bu-lance. It too expensive to actually call the am-bu-lance.
ML: meep
B: [pretends to understand and obviously didn’t hear ML]
ML: Stoppit
B: Cheerio, chappie
ML: I will have to execute a name change on new doggie if I get her. Obviously, I like maggie but she looks just like an Emma to me, too. Or Emmie. What is your reaction to having it be a fatty cyst?
B: Please I ain’t Karen. I have superpowers and the ability to communicate with the dead.

Bryan has answered seven pressing questions (seven, because he refused to answer any more or less because of his ocd). Enjoy.

1. Do you find Nestle Crunch bars slightly more satisfying than love? Be honest.

When I was young, I did find Nestle Crunch bars more satisfying than love. But, truth be told, love to me then was make believing my high school girlfriend at the time (we’ll call her Melody Eclair) was actually a sophomore named Bo while a certain third wheel rocked herself crazily in the corner of my black Chevy S-10. Now, when pressed, I’d have to say the only thing I find more satisfying than love is a good creme brulee, so long as the layer on top gives you that little crunch.

2. What does it mean if a guy has medium-sized feet and squinty eyes? Don’t lie.

It means orgasm is probably out of the question for all involved.

3. I haven’t gotten a text in hours. Why is this happening to me?

Because you say things like, “I thought you’d never wanted to hear from me again,” “cooooooookies,” and “my dog peed on me.”

4. When are you going to provide me with a homecooked meal again?

You’ve requested Hamburger Helper of the Cheeseburger Macaroni variety. While technically this meal is beneath my level of skill, I will make this for you next Tuesday, with brownies for dessert.

5. Who would win in a break-neck, all-goes fight between bindo and Val?

I’m going with Val. I have a feeling she knows how to throw elbows. Bindo would get distracted by something depressing and write a wonderful poem about it, though.

6. Who let the dogs out? And what the hell was up with all the coconut in the Bahamas?

You let the dogs out, just the same way that you lost your room key and foolishly thought that, because we spent thousands of dollars to go on a trip together, I wanted to spend time with you. As far as the coconuts go, I didn’t see them. I was more impressed with all the men in speedos, which I don’t think you noticed because you hadn’t hit puberty yet.

7. Don’t you secretly wish you had a Blackberry Curve instead of dinky iPhone?

Never. All your readers who have iPhones should download the free App “words with friends” and challenge me, PoeticGrin, to a battle.

Of course I do. Of course. The only problem is the STDs floating around, the serial killers lurking about, my (in)sanity, and the facts being what they are. Fact: I have never heard the sound of his voice. Fact: I asked if he had a good weekend and his reply was “not bad.” Fact: I told him I couldn’t cuddle because I was a good girl. Fact: I think I lied.

No can do

I said

Good girl here

I am not a whore. I was a virgin until I was 29, and I do not kid. I just never wanted to make love or fuck. But then the switch was flipped. And now it’s Two. One that didn’t matter. One that shouldn’t have mattered but did. He could’ve been Three.

He laughed it off

haha…I tried

Of course he did. Why shouldn’t he? I was mainly amused, but now I’m not. I think it’s because I lied. I can’t cuddle because I’m cold. I can’t cuddle because I’m a sad girl. I can’t cuddle because he doesn’t really want to cuddle. I can’t cuddle because cuddle is code for fuck and I’m tired of being fucked.